


affirmation

by fairbanks



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Crying During Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, but bang instead, still no beta/good editing, two people who should probably talk things out instead of banging, vague spoilers for ep 92 in the last part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 23:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13601145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairbanks/pseuds/fairbanks
Summary: "What Jon needs," Tim started, pausing to suck some stray sauce off his thumb before he continued, "is to get laid."Martin choked immediately on his drink, spitting out his straw to hack as Sasha mustered enough compassion to give him a few hearty whacks on the back. She didn't react as strongly, of course, just a quirked brow in Tim's direction before picking a chip off her plate."Why do you think he's even interested in having sex at all? Have you ever seen him even look at someone twice?""You both- you can't talk about that! He's our boss!" Martin sputtered, finally recovered enough to speak.





	affirmation

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Утверждение](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13714806) by [WTF_Fictional_Podcasts_2018](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_Fictional_Podcasts_2018/pseuds/WTF_Fictional_Podcasts_2018)



"What Jon needs," Tim started, pausing to suck some stray sauce off his thumb before he continued, "is to get laid."

Martin choked immediately on his drink, spitting out his straw to hack as Sasha mustered enough compassion to give him a few hearty whacks on the back. She didn't react as strongly, of course, just a quirked brow in Tim's direction before picking a chip off her plate.

"Why do you think he's even interested in having sex at all? Have you ever seen him even look at someone twice?" 

"You both- you can't talk about that! He's our boss!" Martin sputtered, finally recovered enough to speak.

"Oh come on Sasha, the last time we all went out for curry you remember the waitress? I thought his head was going to explode the way she kept hitting on him, he was a flustered mess," Tim answered as Martin looked helplessly between them. "That's a repressed man, an uninterested one wouldn't have batted an eye."

"Says you." Sasha stole a chip off his tray and Tim let her, though when she reached for another he pulled the cheap cardboard container away where she couldn't reach. "I didn't know you were such an expert."

Every couple of weeks they would do this, go get some truly heinous, greasy take out and eat it on the uncomfortable stone bench around the corner from the place. It was Martin's idea, of course, he was always the one to insist on little group outings like that, usually with bright enough eyes it was hard to say no. Jon said no, because he was Jon and Tim didn't expect any different. He wasn't sure if he was grateful Jon wasn't there to snipe about his eating habits or if it was a crime he'd never see the man fruitlessly try to eat something almost purely grease without making a mess.

It was nice though, when they got around to it. Definitely worth it this time for the face Martin made as they spoke.

"Think about it like this, if Jon got laid we'd reap some of the benefits, yeah? I mean can you imagine not having to worry about getting a lecture for accidentally saying 'spooky' in his presence? Taking a long break without him doing that PA watch glance of his?" Tim gestured as if the beautiful picture was unfurling before him. "It's the dream."

"Tim, _please_ , this is so inappropriate," Martin muttered. "Besides, he's not that bad."

"For someone who complains about him being so grumpy you sure like pushing his buttons," Sasha pointed out, and Martin gave him a look that said he agreed wholeheartedly. "I can already tell you have some ridiculous scheme going, try not to do anything stupid, alright?"

Tim covered his heart like her words struck him. "Sasha, I'd _never._ I'm all about compassion and sharing the love."

"That's what worries me."

Martin sighed, "I'm never taking you two to lunch again." It wasn't the first time he said as much and Tim chuckled, cuffing his shoulder lightly.

 

\---

 

At the time it was mostly a joke, just a topic he knew would fluster Martin and amuse Sasha despite herself. With such a god damned dreary job it helped to find humor in small things, even if one of those things was gossip more suited for a bunch of rowdy college kids than the esteemed (ha) Magnus Institute's employees. Tim forgot about Jonathan Sims' theoretical sex life, or more likely lack of therefor, almost immediately after throwing away his trash and heading to police station to woo some files his way.

He forgot about it all the way to a couple of days later, when he had to come in at the damned crack of dawn because he was dumb enough to leave his keys at work. He had absolutely no interest in discussing the matter with his landlord, or seeing his landlord for any length of time, and the Institute locked it's doors tight at night. Luckily Tim had more than a few people willing to let him stay the night on short notice, and he had quite the enjoyable evening with a PHD student who came to use the Institute's library on occasion. 

Still, as much as his reputation for being a bit adventurous made him laugh he didn't want to come skulking into work in yesterday's clothes. Instead he headed in as soon as the doors unlocked, grabbed his keys with the plan of back home for a shower and a change. The only people here this early were the cleaning staff, all people he had a god rapport with, so hey, perfect plan. It'd at least teach him to forget his keys.

Tim was nearly homefree, keys in hand more than enough time to even grab breakfast at this rate, when he noticed the door to Jon's office was slightly ajar. That was weird, as innocent as it seemed, given Jon was extremely anal about locking up after he left. Martin learned that the hard way, which was how Martin usually learned things as far as Tim could tell.

He headed over, pretending his intention was purely to correct the oversight and knowing, deep down, he wanted to snoop just a little. Harmless snooping, of course, maybe plant a little prank while he actually had the chance. It was a golden opportunity, given Jon guarded his space in the Archives like a grumpy bear with its' cub.

So yeah, wasn't really expecting Jon to be slumped over the desk as creaked the door open.

"Jon?" Tim couldn't help blurting it out, and the sound was enough to make Jon stir from where his head was resting in his arms. He was asleep, Tim realized with a start, and the disbelieving snort he gave next was what made Jon finally sit up.

"Wh- Tim? What-" Jon's glasses were skewed, half his face indented with the lines of his sleeve and he looked absolutely ridiculous. It took a lot of effort not to grin as Jon righted himself, staring at his watch and then Tim with sleepy suspicion. "It's barely dawn, since when-" His complaint was cut off by a yawn he couldn't contain, and when it ended Jon finished more sheepishly than he started, "Since when do you come in so early?"

Tim pulled out his keys, swinging them around one finger to make his point. "Forgot my keys so I came in early. Ok, seriously, did you _really_ fall asleep here?"

"Don't start, you're going to sound like Elias and I have quite enough of his brand of nagging in my life." Jon stood, and again Tim had to resist the urge to laugh at the state of him.

It was becoming a losing battle. "No offense, boss, but I'm leaning more towards teasing than nagging."

"Then I'll point out the part of that statement where you used 'boss' and remind you that respect would be appreciated," Jon sniped back.

"Then _I'll_ point out that I now have blackmail and could tell Martin about this. Do you really want me tell tell Martin you've been sleeping at your desk?" Tim put on his most angelic tone, and Jon's vaguely horrified look was completely worth it.

"Dear lord no, he'll fuss my to an early grave." Jon stared at him a moment, eyes narrowed and face still with fading imprints of his sleeve. Tim didn't have the heart to tell him any gravitas he might have had was destroyed when you still were blinking the sleep from your eyes. "You have that _look._ You're up to something."

"Offensive, Jon. I mean I am, but you don't have to say it. Look, I'll keep quiet about this to Martin if you do me a favor, got it?"

"This sounds like a trap already- what's the favor?" Jon asked, and Tim made a show of pocketing his keys and waving as he exited.

"Haven't decided yet! See you in a couple hours!"

"Tim- Tim I am not giving you some blank check favor!" Jon called after him, and Tim rolled his eyes as he ascended the stairs. Of course Jon would never let him cash that in on anything of substance, but it may be enough to get him to come out for drinks at least one evening. That would be the perfect time to find him a nice guy or gal for a night.

Because seriously, someone who actually worked to the point of falling asleep in this spooky basement needed more of a social life, in Tim's opinion. This was practically charity work now.

 

\---

 

Now that his plan was more of an actual plan than a passing joke Tim found himself watching Jon more. It was a slow going, given the relevant information he needed was how Jon reacted to people and Jon didn't really interact with people all that much. On a normal workday he only seemed to spend small amounts of time with his assistants and Rosie, maybe Elias if the man wandered down for whatever reason. It didn't leave Tim a lot to work with but he had to start somewhere.

Jon was too work focused to show any interest in his assistants, which might be for the best given Martin's little crush on him. It was the worst kept secret of the office and Tim was pretty sure the only person who didn't realize was Jon himself. Hell, he swore he saw Elias nearly roll his eyes behind Martin's back once at a particularly obvious moment, and if _that_ glorified suit could see it then it was a sad state.

The situation with Martin made things more complicated than he'd like, because despite all of Tim's teasing Martin was a damn good guy and deserved good things. He very much doubted those good things would be getting involved with an uptight mess like Jonathan Sims but that wasn't for Tim to decide, assuming Martin's fancy was more than a passing crush or that Martin would ever grow the balls to act on it.

He might have made a pass at Martin himself if it weren't for that crush and, you know, the fact they worked together. Interoffice flings weren't a problem Tim cared for.

Point being his first rule was to try and keep Martin out of it somewhat, to avoid any landmines there. It wasn't like he was trying to find a life partner for Jon anyway, just a damn one night stand would do the guy some good. 

His second rule was half the reason for watching Jon in the first place, because if we was going to throw Jon to the sharks at some point he should probably have some basic idea of preference, right? It'd be pretty shitty to find a girl who'd actually be interested in the uptight nerd only to find out he preferred men. At the very least he wasn't too worried about figuring out personality preferences. Given the mission statement he just needed someone who could put up with Jon long enough to get down to business, as it were.

Hence the occasional watching, which really didn't help all that much. Jon never looked at anyone twice, and never in a way that may express interest in anything other than whatever professional matter was at hand. Out of everyone he seemed to get along with Sasha best, or at least he allowed her the most amount of banter with occasional banter back. That didn't mean much, of course, he knew Sasha and Jon were vaguely friendly even before Jon was promoted, and Sasha was easily the most reliable and professional of the three assistants. 

His interactions with Martin weren't particularly helpful either, besides proving he was pretty oblivious for a guy so concerned with minor details. He gave Martin the hardest time hands down, sometimes for mistakes Tim thought he could overlook and occasionally for things Martin really should have known better about. If anything Tim was surprised Jon hadn't fired Martin or sent him to a new department with all the complaining he did about Martin's problems those first weeks. Despite himself Jon always gave Martin exact critique on what to do better the next time and, more surprisingly, several next times to try and get it right.

Maybe it was Jon's way of being soft, Tim wasn't all that sure. Whatever the case Sasha and Martin's interactions weren't any help.

The occasional statement givers weren't largely helpful either, Jon was professional with them at best and a snarky nightmare at worst. As funny as it was to watch Elias have to come down and give Jon another talk on his 'bedside manner' it didn't really help Tim's charitable plan all that much.

(Not even when he tried being more active in his investigation. One night he caught a pleasant enough looking young man leaving Jon's office, and Jon fussing with some papers as he rambled on about preliminary investigation into whatever this statement was. Not Tim's problem, he was pretty sure Martin was stuck with this one, something about a haunting smell or what the hell ever.

"Not a bad looking bloke, eh?" Tim leaned against the doorframe, watching Jon start and glance up at the intrusion.

"What?"

"That fellow, the one just in here. Just has some nice assets, if you know what I mean." 

Apparently it took Jon a moment to 'know what he meant,' and the look that came over Jon's face was priceless. "Tim, I'm busy doing work, something you might be familiar with if you indulged on occasion."

Tim tried to look stricken but it was too damn funny. "You're no fun, boss."

"Good, I strive for that."

Yeah, not a successful information grab but an amusing one nonetheless.)

 

As time went on he began to wonder if maybe Sasha was right and he was wasting his time. It was a fun side project, to be sure, and in all honestly he did feel the slightest bit bad for the guy. The more he watched the more painfully obvious it was Jon didn't really _have_ a social life, all the offhanded jokes Tim made about him living for his work were ringing plainly true. Sure, Jon was an ass sometimes but that was no way to live, cooped up in the Archives with a bunch of scary and often nonsensical stories.

He considered using his favor a few times, just trying to force Jon to come drinking with him and wingman his damn heart out until something stuck. Maybe all Jon's anal nonsense was rubbing off on him because it didn't feel right without some plan of attack, even if that plan was knowing whether to push him towards men or women or both. 

It was probably natural his own imagination began to wander, from the sort of people Jon would like to the sort of people who would like Jon. Martin was obviously up there, and Tim didn't really get it, not at first. He wasn't exactly picky, every face and look usually had their own charms, but he liked to have a good time. Jon was so far from the kind of energy he usually gravitated towards it was a often a struggle not to roll his eyes at Martin's strange preference. 

Still, it wasn't like Tim couldn't appreciate a few obvious things. Jon's voice, for example, he really did have an attractive voice. He was an incredible story teller when you could catch him in the mood, get him interested enough in a topic or recollection to really get into it. Even the more ridiculous statements he'd recite at his computer were melodious in some way, pitched perfectly and often with a dry edge that made the nonsense go down smoother.

(Tim didn't like hearing the other statements, the weird ones that refused to be recorded digitally at first. Jon was in true form then, he'd admit, reciting the statement like he was in the giver's shoes. It should be pretty incredible to hear, but Tim always got this... this feeling, like he was caught eavesdropping on something of no consequence, but caught nonetheless.

Dwelling on shit like that didn't help make the occasionally strange job any easier, so he dismissed it and made sure not to linger for those sorts of statements unless he had a purpose to be there.)

So his voice was nice, and while Jon wasn't remarkably handsome he was hardly bad to look at. Kind of stuffy, sure, a bit grey at the temples and he tended to look like he skipped more sleep than he should but there was some sort of nerdy appeal there. Maybe Martin was drawn to the idea of finding something nicer under all the pomp and bite, or maybe he fancied he saw it there already. That definitely wasn't Tim's scene, he hadn't the slightest interest in finding secret silverlinings in rainclouds, but-

Well, fine, he could see the appeal trying to make a guy like Jon squirm. He already got a kick out of a more innocent form of it, the light teasing and prodding meant to good-naturedly get on his nerves in a, you know, nonsexual way. If he _did_ go for the less innocent form, the challenge of finding what made Jon tick as he glowered up at you, the hitches of breath and breaks in his dry tone small victories, the chance to dishevel a man so very intent on staying prim and proper...

It didn't take a long time down that line of thought Tim to see the attraction, even find himself indulging a little in the idea of it.

He found himself watching more for simple enjoyment, and maybe he should have had some shame for thinking of his boss that way but Tim learned a long time ago beating yourself up over fantasies was just asking for misery. That was probably the aspect of everything that stayed his hand and let his half baked little plans fall to the wayside, the idea that his own wandering interests were beginning to leak into his intention to help Jon out. The fantasies would pass, and perhaps he'd revisit them when they did.

In the end it was probably better he hadn't gone ahead with some attempt at getting Jon laid right then, given Martin's weird worm nonsense and consequent move in to the Archives.

Yeah, he'd think about it again when all that nonsense blew over.

 

\---

 

Being stuck with Jon was the very last thing Tim wanted, yet here they were.

He could leave, could go right out of the Archives and bother literally _anyone_ else while he waited for a call back but resentment stuck in his throat. He was sick of tip toeing around the Archives, hoping to avoid having to see Jon and his wild, pointed looks. He was god damned sick to _death_ of finding every excuse to avoid his own base of operation at work because being in the same room with Jon made his blood boil.

Well, maybe if it pissed him off so much it'd piss Jon off the same, and at the moment that small, petty victory was enough for Tim. By the way Jon kept glaring over at him he was pretty damn sure he was right.

It was silent at first, though in the past few minutes their tempers devolved into sniping at one another when the chance struck. To be entirely fair Tim started it, a fight itching under his skin. To be fair Jon rose to the bait without hesitation, clearly just as eager to let off some steam.

"If you have free time to loiter around and hound me then go do it somewhere else!" Jon finally snapped when one of Tim's comments dug too deep.

Tim sneered, "What, so you can follow after and watch me from the bushes like some low grade stalker? Or stay here and do whatever suspicious nonsense you do behind our backs?"

" _Suspicious?_ " Jon was fuming, and it struck Tim it had been a long while since he saw Jon angry without any fear underlining it. It had been a long, long time since Tim himself didn't feel like he had to glance over his shoulder for rotten breath against his skin. "You're one to bloody talk about suspicious behavior and _watching._ "

That threw Tim for a moment. "What?"

"Don't 'what' me, you think I didn't notice? Before- before Prentiss and the attack, I caught you watching me with this look on your face like- ugh, I don't know! Whatever it was I _know_ you were planning something, and right before we almost die at that."

"Are you- lord, are you really so mental you think _I_ set up the Prentiss attack? What, so I could get eaten by worms too- or have you completely forgotten you weren't the only one who enjoyed that little trauma?" 

"I-" That seemed to throw Jon back, a stumble of words until he pressed on in renewed irritation, "I didn't say that! And it doesn't change that you were watching me!"

Tim gritted his teeth at that, unable to deny it. Shit, he didn't give Jon enough credit, he was positive the other man hadn't noticed anything yet here they were. His silence only fueled Jon's conviction, and before Tim could make an excuse Jon spoke again. "Why? Why were you watching me?"

Tim already had half a dozen excuses running around his head, anything to get Jon off his god damned back so he could escape the situation while he had the chance. Instead he opened his mouth and said, "I was imagining fucking you."

The absolute silence after the statement was almost laughable, awkward and ringing as Jon gaped at him and Tim- well, Tim felt god damned relieved. It was ridiculous, why would he care about what Jon thought anymore anyway? Hell, the look of bafflement on Jon's face was worth throwing the truth out there.

"You- what?"

"Fucking, Jon, you know, that thing people with lives outside this miserable place do on occasion? Sweaty, fun, life affirming, indecent, all that?" Tim was on a roll, he could feel a pressure in chest building with each word like reaching a crescendo. "Don't flatter yourself either, it all started because I was hoping to be your wingman and get you laid so you'd relax for damn once. Thought I could use that favor you owed me once I figured out what kind of person you'd even go for. Eventually I gave up and just tried to figure out who would even be interested in an uptight ass like you."

There was something about shutting Jon up that moment, watching him struggle to even formulate a response, that was a balm. Tim felt... hell, he felt in control for the first time since Prentiss turned his life on it's head, he felt like Jon's clever little ploy of throwing that accusation at him was turned right around and it was _satisfying._ For a moment everything felt like a twisted mirror of what it used to be, Jon flustered against Tim's good-natured attempts to get under his skin.

Only he wasn't so good-natured about it anymore, was he? And whatever Jon was feeling wasn't the uptight fluster of before.

"So I tried to imagine it. And you know what? It helped dealing with your bullshit."

"What... what did you imagine?"

Jon's response surprised them both, if the look that passed on Jon's face was any indication. He looked like he was seconds away from trying to take the awkward question back, from running off like Tim had been considering only moment's before. For some damn reason Tim didn't want him to do either, and even he could recognize something here was spiraling out of control.

"I imagined you'd be stubborn about it. You'd make me work for it." Tim spoke before Jon could attempt any clean up, effectively locking Jon in place as he continued. "Maybe I was wrong though, you seem pretty eager to hear all about it. Maybe you'd be easier than I thought."

"Tim-" Jon's tone was strangled in the way Tim imagined months back, the breaking down of barriers and protocols that appealed to him before. It rankled that it still appealed to him now.

"You were always so put together, always so obsessed with order in your own way. I wanted to see you wrecked. Even now, ha, you're a god damned mess but you're just... stubborn, bullheaded and so sure you're right. I imagined getting you to drop the pomp, I imagined biting messy marks up your chest and making you beg through gasps for something more. I'd make you say it, not your usual overblown way of things. You'd have to say it plainly, crude just like the rest of us. Hell, I even got off to imagining you breaking down and actually begging me to fuck you."

As he took a step forward he knew it was a bad idea, Tim _knew_ it but he just didn't care. Jon was staring at him like he knew what a bad idea this all was too, like they opened Pandora's bloody box between them and nothing was going back where it belonged. This wasn't him, Tim thought, he liked to have fun, he liked lively people or sweet ones like Martin, not dour, paranoid idiots like Jon. Sex wasn't supposed to be a weird competition, it wasn't supposed to have a painful edge to it filled with vitriol and spite.

He wasn't supposed to want to push Jon down and make good on all his statements, and Jon wasn't supposed to stare back at him with a shock that didn't quite hide a curious tension a little too much like need.

A loud clatter from a couple rooms away stopped them both, the atmosphere they created shattering into reluctant common sense. Whatever the sound was it didn't repeat, no one seemed near but it was enough for Jon to regain his footing and for Tim's disgust to well up again, at the man before him and himself.

"This never happened," He told Jon as he left, not even pausing at the door for Jon's 'quite' in response.

They didn't interact at all outside of necessary work related discussions that end as quickly as possible, and Tim let his resentment fester.

 

\---

 

Funny how his fantasies always revolved around making Jon mess, given the state of him now. If Tim had the energy to care he'd laugh about it, but even that was more effort than a bitter old joke was worth. If he had the energy to care he might even feel bad for Jon, neck bruised and cut, arm now wrapped and cleaned but Tim saw the burnt mess underneath. The fact Jon wasn't moving his fingers at all if he couldn't help it was telling enough.

On the subject of what he'd care about if he could how he got into this situation would be up there. Jon came back, Elias dropped a bunch of fucking nonsense, two new people were sucked into the hellhole that was Tim's everyday life and here he was, straddling Jon's legs on the cot Martin used to use. Where was Martin, he wondered? He had been hovering near Jon before, trying to help. Melanie skipped out and Tim blankly watched everyone else make their way out until he was finally alone.

Alone with Jon, the _Archivist._ That was another thing he could laugh at if he had the energy at all.

At the very least he remembered pointing out to Jon he owed him a favor, and a burst of restless energy led them to this room, with Jon under him and Tim's hands dragging that ridiculous tshirt up.

"You said-" Jon's voice had a hitch, and the first few times Tim touched him he tensed like he expected it to hurt. "You said that sex is life affirming."

"You remember that?" Tim pulled the shirt off him, or at least far enough for Jon to do the rest so he wouldn't agitate his arm. Underneath the cloth is the unremarkable chest of a pale academic, familiar scars dotting the skin, and Tim stared at them, something welling in his chest.

"Yes. I remember it all." It was an admission, the Jonathan Sims way of saying 'I thought about it.' A lifetime ago Tim would have been delighted at the irony that all this time, all that stupid planning, and maybe he himself was to Jon's taste. 

Instead he pressed his fingers to Jon's skin, fingertips mapping the scars. "Do they itch sometimes too?"

"... yes, when it's humid."

"Sometimes I'll wake up when they itch and think if I scratch hard enough the skin will break and a worm will squirm it's way out." It was easy to say, a numbness washing over him as he pressed his thumb into one of the larger scars at Jon's collarbone, nails scraping gently over another at the center of his chest. Jon shivered at that and it was hard for Tim to tell if it was from fear or perverse pleasure. Maybe both.

Jon breathed sharply through his nose. "I used to have dreams like that," he admitted, tone thick as Tim's exploration trailed down. "Not anymore, really. The worms don't disturb me as much now."

Tim hummed, noncommittal, allowing Jon to sit up enough to wrestle with Tim's shirt now. Tim got used to evasive tactics, finding excuses to keep his shirt on during sex, making up ridiculous stories about where the scars came from to make his partner laugh and stop asking questions. Jon knew, of course, Jon lived the little beasts eating at flesh so his hands move with purpose, the same as Tim's. Familiar in sight and feel but foreign, and Jon's hands traced in such a methodical way something in Tim felt like an experiment, or an example in a medical text. A cadaver on the slab.

His apathy cracked and he shoved Jon back, holding him down against the cot with a hand gripping his biceps. He swallowed Jon's surprise as it left his mouth in a gasp, let the swirling thing inside him build as his careful exploration of before became firmer, rough, coaxing moans and curses out of Jon he fantasized about, once upon a time.

Tim nearly laughed into Jon's collar at the thought, after the rest of their clothes were removed and Tim's fingers were slick with some lotion or another left lying around that he wasn't even sure was appropriate for this sort of thing. Jon wasn't complaining and he didn't care. It got the job done well enough, as Tim slid his fingers in methodically and watched Jon gasp and claw at Tim's back with his one good hand.

It was refreshing, thinking only of the physical, his entire damn mess of a world narrowed down to the heat in his skin and how Jon writhed beneath him. The blood rushing through his ears could be excitement or resentment or something else entirely but it was _alive_ in a way he hadn't felt in weeks. When he finally pressed into Jon he choked on the pressure building in his chest, a steady beat that that grew louder as he thrusted forward, giving in to Jon's breathless pleading for more.

When the pressure finally snapped Tim found himself gulping down air, still moving in rhythm as ugly tears began to run down his face. He didn't open his eyes, couldn't bear to, even as he felt that one good hand of Jon's cupping his jaw with a skittish gentleness. He imagined his tears running down Jon's arm from their point of contact, swallowed a sob and buried his face into Jon's neck. Tim didn't know why he was crying, out of the dozens of reasons and the dozens of tragedies and the countless moments he could have broke down it was here, to a nameless pit in his chest. To Jon's trembling palm against his jaw.

When he finished it was hastily, against Jon's stomach rather than the intimacy of inside him. He finally opened his eyes then, looking down at Jon's heaving chest and feverish eyes, still watching Tim so sharply even now. _Archivist,_ they kept saying. Beholding, watchers, the Eye.

He wasn't sure if Jon came and didn't care, reaching down using his own cum slick fingers between Jon's legs. He watched the man start, still so breathless and strung out and unsure, watched Jon tense and tighten and try to muffle himself as he came just as messily.

They said nothing in the lull, and Tim realized there were still tears lazily running down his face. It almost made him laugh, almost, and that aborted laugh might have even had a hint of relief.

"Life affirming," Tim muttered, and Jon was still catching his breath but he managed a nod as he closed his eyes. "This doesn't change anything."

"Even you don't believe that," Jon managed, and Tim didn't bother to dignify it with an answer, just curled into what little space the cot allowed and closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written smut in nearly 7 years. if it's bad and stupid, i'm sorry. 
> 
> also this is dedicated to the fic exchange thing i saw ages ago that had the prompt 'tim decides jon needs to get laid even if he has to do it himself.' i have no idea where i saw it but here's to you, whoever threw that gem out there


End file.
